


o my heart

by LyriumTainted



Series: Just Deacon Things: W I G [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Little bit of Fluff, Little bit of angst, Nora (Fallout) - Freeform, Other, but most of my fics are, face-changing liar boy, ish, no beta we die like men, sole survivor backstory, still cant write but i'm still trying, sunglasses to hide the sadness, this is mostly backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyriumTainted/pseuds/LyriumTainted
Summary: Deacon was not a singer.But Nora definitely was, whether she believed it or not, and Deacon was not above listening to her sing to fall asleep.
Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Series: Just Deacon Things: W I G [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726144
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	o my heart

**Author's Note:**

> deacon "i will share nothing about myself every except my entire soul" and nora "i will share everything at any given moment don't test me"

Deacon was not a singer.   
  


Not that he didn’t like music, not that he didn’t have a semi-decent voice- it was just too intimate, for him. Letting someone hear you sing sounded a lot like letting someone in on a personal joy; how you sang along to something could tell someone a lot about you. Maybe that was his trust and intimacy issues talking. Maybe.

But Charmer didn’t seem to mind who heard her. Charmer was often singing; it seemed like music was just a part of her soul. Whether she was on the road or helping a settlement, it wasn’t hard to hear her humming along to her PipBoy, often singing during her work when there wasn’t a threat of raiders or wildlife hearing her. She didn’t have a bad voice, far from it, but Deacon would like to think he knew her well enough to tell it wasn’t confidence that kept her singing in the public, but pure happiness. She was happiest when music was playing, and she didn’t even attempt to hide it.   
She didn’t hide a lot of things, despite what she’d gone through, and he almost envied her for it. Almost.

Some nights, if Deacon was lucky, she’d sing to herself as she cleaned her guns out and kept watch.

Deacon had witnessed a lot of private moments; he’d watched Nora mourn her husband and grieve over her home country, and yet somehow listening to her sing when he was supposed to be sleeping almost felt worse. Like it was more private than anything she’d shared with him.

That night, they weren’t camped in the middle of nowhere for once, but at a Minuteman settlement. It wasn’t a big one, only two settlers and their small families, but they needed help, and while it made Deacon roll his eyes when they said it, the Minutemen were always happy to help the people of the Commonwealth, and in turn, it made camping a lot easier for him and Charmer when on Railroad missions. At least there was that.

Deacon laid on his back, on a shitty bed, in an even shittier shack, staring up at what had to be the worst ceiling ever constructed. There was no door, and he was sure there would soon be no roof. He was amazed it was still standing if he was honest, but desperate people seemed to make everything work.   
She didn’t have to, but Nora sat guard by the doorless doorway, cleaning her guns, PipBoy off to the side playing Diamond City Radio. Her legs hung off the ledge of the shack, just barely touching the ground. 

He could hear her humming turn into singing, and allowed himself a small smile. He didn’t understand what language it was, although he’d heard her talk in it before.

The singing wasn’t meant for him; he was pretty sure it wasn’t meant for anybody, not like the way her singing when she worked was meant for the people around her. It was sad, and slow, and she only sang like this on her guard nights.   
It definitely wasn’t meant for him, but he used it nonetheless.

He’d always struggled with sleep, even more so after Barbara died, but when Charmer sang at night, he found himself having an easier time telling his ever-present nightmares to get lost.   
Not tonight, though- too many thoughts floated through his head to find sleep, and he found himself pulling himself out of bed to sit down next to his partner at the doorway.   
He faced the opposite direction as her, leaning against the wall with a flimsy blanket wrapped around his shoulders.   
Nora glanced over at him while she worked, but didn’t stop singing until she’d clearly reached the end of the verse- or, at least, that’s what he had to assume, seeing as he didn’t understand the language.

“Real pretty song, Boss.’ Deacon said after a moment.

Nora nodded slowly, inspecting her gun, before deeming it clean enough.   
“It’s German,” She finally responded. “I didn’t mean to keep you up, I’m sorry.”   
  
Deacon lazily waved it off, “Charmer, if it bothered me, I would’ve made some snarky comment already,” Well, they both knew that was true, at least. “I was going to be up anyway. What’s a German?” 

That got a small snort out of her, and even, he could see, the beginning of a smile.   
“Me, for one. My son, though I guess he wouldn’t really consider himself that, would he?”   
And just as fast as it showed up, that small smile disappeared.

“That song was one I’d sing to him as a baby, whenever he cried- he’d always go quiet, and get this look on his face, like maybe just for a moment, he could understand me. He, uh, probably wouldn’t be able to, now, obviously.” Nora wiped at her eyes in a futile attempt to make it look like she wasn’t crying.   
“Nate used to try so hard to learn German, he had this… just an absolutely terrible accent, and he never managed to pick it up, but he tried so hard. So hard. He wasn’t the best, but he… he did a lot, for me. His parents never liked me; I took English classes for them, adopted a new accent for them- I had a *kid* for them, really. Nate and I were happy without kids, I-” She sniffed, and Deacon, shitty master spy and even shittier friend that he was, could not believe that he hadn’t noticed the accent before. It was so obvious when she got upset, and it wasn’t hard to get her upset.

That shouldn’t have been what he was focusing on, but something kept him from confronting what she was saying. Maybe it was that fear of being real that kept him from focusing on the important parts of her story, or maybe it was that fear of being real with *her*.

“I went through a miscarriage trying to make them like me. They didn’t even love Shaun! Their only grandson…”   
  


Deacon knew some of this story; he knew about Nate and Shaun, the cryogenic horror they’d been tricked into. The ‘200 year-old woman’ story wasn’t something he’d believed at first, but it didn’t take him long to figure out that Nora didn’t lie to friends- and she considered him one, for some wild reason.   
He was so caught up in his head, he didn’t even notice when she grabbed his hand, and then too surprised to do much but squeeze it in reassurance.

“I used to sing to Shaun in German only; he’d grow up around Americans, their language, their traditions… It was the least I could give him, and he’ll never remember it. Not much use now, anyway, is it? I should just forget it, it’s not helping anyone. Sorry for keeping you up with... Whatever this was.”

She moved to pull her hand away, likely to wipe eyes again and to go back to humming and pretending none of this had happened, but Deacon tightened his grip reflexively, not wanting to admit out loud that he wanted to keep holding her hand.

“Listen, Charmer- Nora, I should be the last to tell you about keeping your past close to you and remembering your loved ones, or whatever positive bullshit someone like Preston might tell you, but for once, he’d probably say something that’s right. *When* you get your son back, you’ll be able to teach him German, and sing him all the songs you did when he was a baby.”   
Deacon bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over what he could say to make her feel better- though he knew it wasn’t something he really could fix.

“If it helps, I like your singing. Helps me sleep at night, when I’m thinking about… y’know, Babs.”   
Nora gave him a look, like she didn’t quite believe him, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Hey, I swear it. I uh, I know I don’t do the whole ‘honesty’ thing very often, but I don’t kid about…” He made an expression and hand motion, implying what he found hard to say but knew Nora could guess.

“I mean it. Don’t stop singing, ‘specially in that language of yours. Your son’ll wanna hear it, too.”

He was surprised for a moment when she burst into tears again, worried he’d overstepped a boundary they hadn’t yet crossed, but relaxed when Nora smiled through the tears and squeezed his hand, leaning on her side to rest her head on his shoulder, taking a few deep breaths.

“Y’know, Deeks, you’ll be meeting him the same time I will? 10 years old already… I’ve missed so much of his life.”

“You’ll be there for the rest of it, though. Why don’t you get some sleep, Charmer? I’ll take up watch, if you want.” Deacon offered, but Nora shook her head, still not getting up from her spot leaning against him..

“No, no... you should get some sleep too. I’m not… I’m not too worried about getting jumped in the middle of the night,” She admitted, yawning through her words, already nodding off after getting everything off her chest. “It just didn’t want to sleep and face my thoughts. I should’ve known I could talk to you about it. You’re a good friend, D, you really are.”

She yawned again, scooching over to further lean on him, leaving him trapped unless he wanted to tell her to get off.

“‘M sure he’d like you, too.”

It took Deacon a moment, a few heartbeats, to furrow his brows. “Too?” He asked, but didn’t get a response from Charmer. A small shake of her shoulder only got him an incoherent protest, and he wasn’t going to keep her from some well-deserved sleep.

Instead, Deacon leaned his cheek on her head, closed his eyes, and prepared for his neck and back to hurt like hell in the morning.


End file.
